


pull me close and let me hold you in

by coffeeandchemicals, red_plaid_on_red_plaid



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Character Study, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandchemicals/pseuds/coffeeandchemicals, https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_plaid_on_red_plaid/pseuds/red_plaid_on_red_plaid
Summary: He wakes up with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. There’s no reason for it. But this happens a lot. Anxiety coiling in his gut, drilling this dread into him before he’s even woke up. And Steve will spend the rest of the day trying to convince himself that there’s nothing wrong. That nothing bad will happen. No one is going to die.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 18
Kudos: 84





	pull me close and let me hold you in

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags! If we’ve missed something, please let us know!

He wakes up with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. There’s no reason for it. But this happens a lot. Anxiety coiling in his gut, drilling this dread into him before he’s even woke up. And Steve will spend the rest of the day trying to convince himself that there’s nothing wrong. That nothing bad will happen. No one is going to die. 

Next to him, Billy sleeps soundly, making these little huffy snoring sounds every so often that Steve thinks are adorable. Billy’s probably dreaming, he does that a lot. Steve hopes that it’s just a dream and not a nightmare. Billy hasn’t woken up screaming in six months and Steve wants it to stay that way. 

Please be good dreams. 

Please. 

Steve wraps his arms around his stomach, wondering if physical pressure will force the anxiety down.

It doesn’t. 

He hugs his pillow and tries to slow his breathing. He tries to tell himself everything is fine. There’s no reason for him to be feeling this way. That his body is just reacting to some stimuli that isn’t there. That he just needs to breathe, exhale the anxiety with each breath and he’ll calm down. 

This doesn’t work. 

His breaths quicken. 

Next to him, Billy mumbles something and rolls over. Steve sits up and wonders if Billy would be mad if he woke him up. Steve checks the time on the bedside clock, it’s just after five in the morning – too early. Too early to wake Billy who desperately needs sleep to continue to heal. Even if he looks like he’s back to his usual self – muscles built up, scars mostly covered by strategic shirts (Billy doesn’t wear the muscle shirts anymore, not even when he’s home), tan slowly returning from the summer spent outside whenever possible (just different tan lines now). But, Billy’s fragile now, an edge exists that wasn’t there before. Steve sees it. Max sees it. El sees it. 

The others don’t, not usually. And Billy wants it this way. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the things he’s lost. 

But they all have scars. Some are just more visible than others. 

Steve’s are just under his skin, rooted in his brain. People don’t see them at first glance. And Steve wants it this way. He can pass for undamaged unless they look too closely. Unless they see the signs – Steve’s nails that he constantly tears off, hangnails he picks at, hands always moving, always needling at something, always trying to expel the nervous energy that has rooted itself in his brain. But people don’t look because they don’t want to know. 

And Steve gets that. It’s easier to go through life taking everyone at their word – _I’m fine_ \- and not digging any deeper. He does it all the time. He doesn’t have the energy to take other people’s problems on as his own. 

Just Billy’s. Only Billy’s. 

But on days that start like this. When the dread and the fear and the paranoia are physically manifesting, Steve wishes he had Billy’s scars and not his own. Because then they’d be healing, right? He’d be getting better, right?

Not worse, right?

Steve clenches his hands into fists as tight as he can make them, hoping that this will draw his focus away from the knot. It just hurts his hands. And the knot grows. And he breathes faster. 

Next to him, Billy still sleeps, lying on his back with his mouth open slightly, hair sticking to his cheek. Billy doesn’t get anxious like Steve. He gets quiet, withdrawn, pulled low in his despair. But not anxious. When Billy gets this way, Steve uses his excess energy to distract Billy – he’ll drag him out to the cracked and rundown basketball court behind their apartment and play a game of one-on-one, or he’ll cajole him to going to the bar down the street to play pool and drink a beer – one, only one, otherwise the alcohol will make Billy’s depression worse, or he’ll make Billy sit on the couch and read to him – they’ve made their way through _The Stand_ and _Neuromancer_ that way. When Billy gets this way, it gives Steve something else to focus on that isn’t the anxiety. And Steve can forget for a little while that he has scars, too. 

But it’s five in the morning and Steve’s anxiety has become a living thing. It’s staring at him in the dark and telling him all the things that are going to go wrong and that have gone wrong and all the things he should have said and all the things he shouldn’t have said and– 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, so quietly that he can barely himself over the blood pounding in his ears. 

Next to him, Billy sleeps. 

In the dark, Steve’s anxiety laughs. 

Steve knots his hands together, wondering if giving himself something to hold on to would help. 

It doesn’t.

Next to him, Billy rolls over. Steve both wishes and doesn’t that Billy will wake. That Billy will take him into his arms and hold him tightly. That Billy will stroke his hair and his back and tell him that everything will be okay. Steve feels guilty for wishing this – Billy needs his sleep; he’s still healing too.

The anxiety catches Steve tighter, holding him fast in its grasp, and it won’t let him go. Steve can feel it roiling up from his stomach, tightening his throat and shallowing his breaths. He can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. The world is narrowing to pinpricks in front of his eyes. All Steve can feel are the physical symptoms of the anxiety in his stomach, in his breath, and in his throat. He’s clasped the blankets so tight in his fists that his knuckles have gone white. All Steve can think about are the things that could happen, the things that have happened, and everything he should or shouldn’t have done. Steve wishes he could control everything so that he could always see the outcome, so that he could always protect the people he cares about. But all he can think about are the “what-ifs”, the things that are so out of his control, but he keeps trying to plan for them anyway. If he can plan for every eventuality, then he won’t have to worry, right?

The worry will leave him alone, right?

Steve looks at Billy. Billy’s back is to him now. Steve can hear Billy’s deep slow steady breathing and he hopes that Billy is having good dreams. He really wants Billy to wake up and to hold him, but Steve knows this is selfish and he feels guilty.

But he still wants Billy to hold him.

So, instead, very gently, Steve lays back down. He slowly and quietly, as to not wake Billy, edges closer to Billy. Until, finally, he can feel the heat of Billy’s back on his chest. Until he’s curled up around Billy, feeling the comforting warmth and solidity of Billy’s body against him. He can feel Billy’s breaths, still deep and slow. Steve had managed not to wake him. 

Deliberately, Steve tries to slow and deepen his breathing, trying to match Billy’s. It’s difficult and requires effort to break through the stranglehold the anxiety has on him. But with Billy there, warm and alive and so very real, Steve finds the grip of the anxiety loosening. He finds his own breaths deepening and slowing. He finds his body relaxing, and the tenseness in his muscles beginning to ease. Carefully, Steve puts an arm around Billy’s waist. 

Steve really wants Billy to hold him, but he finds that holding Billy instead is just as good. It’s even better when Steve feels Billy’s hand reach up and clasp his own, pulling Steve in closer.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [Pain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9LgHNf2Qy0&ab_channel=TheWarOnDrugs) by The War on Drugs.
> 
> We’ve drawn from our own experiences with anxiety (panic attacks) for this work – but everyone has different experiences. Anxiety fucking sucks – it’s like this horrible little gremlin on your back. 
> 
> Any comments or kudos are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> We are on tumblr! You can find us @ [redplaid-on-redplaid](https://redplaid-on-redplaid.tumblr.com/) and @ [coffeeandchemicals](https://coffeeandchemicals.tumblr.com/).


End file.
